Burning Down the House

Hermione stood in front of the open refrigerator. She was hungry. No, ravenous, but she wasn't sure what she wanted to eat. There was a bowl of cherry jelly and lacking anything else appetizing, she grabbed it. Her eye fell on a plate of leftover curry from the other night. She contemplated the jelly in her hand, looking from it to the curry. Shrugging, she picked up the curry, setting the jelly and curry on the counter. Hermione opened a cupboard and pulled out a bowl and a spoon.

Humming softly, Hermione scooped some of the curry into the bowl, and topped it with part of the jelly. She cradled the bowl in one hand and sat at the table. Hermione took a cautious bite. It was still missing something. She searched the cupboards and refrigerator looking for that missing something. Anything. A forlorn onion lying in solitude on the counter caught her attention. Hermione pointed her wand at a drawer and a knife flew out and began chopping the onion. When it was done, she scooped up a handful of the chopped onions and sprinkled them on top of the jelly-curry mixture. Hermione dipped her spoon in the bowl and took another bite. Under any other circumstance, this would be disgusting, she reflected.

The past few weeks she'd begun to notice odd things happening to her. Hermione had read every pregnancy book she could get her hands on, both Muggle and magical, and knew of course, they would happen. After watching the others go through his, she knew pregnant women were capable of eating some truly horrid concoctions. And up to the moment before she'd cut an apple in half and sprinkled it with enough pepper to turn it grey, Hermione swore she wasn't going to have insane cravings. It was just a matter of willpower. She'd said the same thing about mood swings, too. That lasted until Hermione had been rummaging through a box in their storage space in the cellar, looking for a book on magical contracts, when she'd come across Ron's Christmas jumper from their first year at school. She had burst into inexplicable tears. Ron had found her sitting on the floor, holding the ratty thing to her chest, hiccupping.

A shuffling sound made her look up. Ron stood in the doorway to the kitchen, rubbing his eyes. 'Hermione, it's two in the morning,' he yawned. 'Why are you up?'

'I was hungry.'

Ron peeked into the bowl she held and immediately regretted it, turning green around the edges. 'Ugh! What is that?'

'Cherry jelly, chicken curry, and onions.' Ron made gagging noises, and Hermione looked up at him as she deliberately inserted a heaping spoonful of the contents of her bowl into her mouth and chewed. Swallowing, she smirked, 'You asked.'

'Yes, I did.' Ron grabbed an apple from a bowl on the table and sat across from her.

'I'll brush my teeth before I go back to bed,' she said helpfully.

'Thanks. I appreciate that,' Ron mumbled around a bite of apple.

'Are you coming with me on Thursday?'

'What's Thursday?'

'The appointment with Shanti.'

'That's this Thursday?'

Hermione sighed impatiently. 'Yes, Ron. It's been written on the calendar for more than a month now.'

Ron's eyes jerked to the calendar on the wall behind Hermione. 'Damn. I forgot.'

'How can you forget?' Hermione stabbed her spoon into the bowl in exasperation.

'Because it's one of the busiest times of the year!' Ron said pointedly. 'You couldn't make this appointment for after September first?'

'Ron, it's just thirty minutes out of your day. And I really want you there for this.'

'I'll see what I can do.' Ron threw the apple core into the rubbish bin. 'Davy'll be in Thursday anyway, and I'll owl Jack tomorrow to see if he can come in for a few hours.' Ron stifled a yawn. 'What time again?'

'Two-fifteen.' Hermione scraped the sides of the bowl with the spoon.

Ron leaned down and kissed her forehead. 'I'll be there,' he promised. He left the kitchen and went back to bed.

Hermione nodded and spooned the rest of the jelly into the bowl, topping it with another handful of onions. 'This is really good,' she murmured.

*****

'I know there's one in here somewhere,' Hermione muttered. The desk drawer was open, revealing a welter of paper clips, broken quills, and half-empty bottles of ink. She knew there had to be at least one elastic band in there. She had thrown it into the desk drawer herself a few weeks ago. 'Ah-ha!' Grinning in triumph, she pulled the elastic band from under a broken Self-Inking Quill and looped it around the button of her trousers. Hermione threaded it through the buttonhole and looped it back over the button, effectively holding her trousers closed after a fashion. 'I hope this works,' she muttered. Ginny had told her it would do for a stop-gap until she had time to go shopping or put an Engorgement charm on a few items of clothing. The last time she'd outgrown anything this quickly had been in her second year, but then she'd been growing up and not out.

Hermione sighed and realized she would have to go to Godric's Hollow and see if any of Ginny's clothes from when she had been pregnant with James would fit her. Hermione was a couple of inches taller, but Ginny liked to wear her trousers on the longer side, so fit wouldn't be much of an issue.

She was starting to wish people would mind their own bloody business. Hermione knew they meant well, but the trickle of witches coming by her office door to offer 'advice' was getting on her nerves. Older witches she barely had a nodding acquaintance with seemed to think her pregnancy removed all boundaries of social propriety. They asked her questions even her own mother hadn't asked. One elderly witch had spent a good fifteen minutes telling Hermione the best ways to breastfeed. Mortified, Hermione had made up a fake meeting, desperate to end the conversation.

Ron padded into the kitchen, dressed for the day, but for his shoes and socks. 'Two-fifteen. Shanti's office,' he muttered, still more than half-asleep.

'Are you okay?'

'Yeah. Just weird dreams.'

'About what?' Hermione was fascinated by Ron's dreams. They were usually far more organized than hers. Where she dreamed of random images, his dreams nearly had plots with dialogue.

'Baby. Two heads. Like that bloke in that hitchhiker film Harry and I saw last weekend.' Ron poured a cup of tea and nearly bolted it, grimacing in pain as he scalded his tongue.

'Ouch.' Hermione clucked in sympathy. 'I'll see you later.'

'No breakfast?' Ron grunted.

'I'll get something later.'

'Okay.' Ron pillowed his head on his folded arms.

'Don't go back to sleep,' she warned, picking up her bag.

'I won't,' he muttered. 'Two-headed baby every time I close my eyes.'

*****

Hermione hated working with her door shut, but lately it was the only way to get anything done. She had closed the door in self-preservation. Another barrage of advice regarding Healers and natural childbirth versus enough painkilling potions to knock out a hippogriff. Hermione had politely listened to the woman and thanked her, waiting until the witch's footsteps faded before she jabbed her wand at the door, closing it with barely a click.

Hermione leafed through a stack of notes she had made regarding magical contracts, idly wondering if Ginny, Katie, Bronwyn, Penny, or Fleur had suffered from the kind of intrusions on their privacy as she had been the last few weeks. She shook her head. Enough.

There were an unusual amount of inquiries regarding house-elves on her desk. Not how to obtain one, but there had been a spate of rumors of pureblood families giving their elves clothes. As punishment. It made her blood boil to see that. Hence the research into magical contracts to see if an elf could successfully transfer his or her loyalties to another family.

She didn't have much to go on. Dobby had wanted his freedom. There was little love lost between Dobby and the Malfoys. Dobby was Harry's elf willingly from the moment Harry had tricked Lucius Malfoy into giving him a sock. Rather Slytherin of you, Harry, she thought with a smirk. But most house-elves thought of Dobby as a misfit. That much was clear to Hermione. Winky had been so devastated by her freedom; she descended into what amounted to an alcoholic depression and never recovered. In the aftermath of the battle, Hermione managed to find Winky. Without Dobby's solicitous care, Winky's health had rapidly deteriorated and she had died just weeks after Hermione came back to England from Australia.

And in the middle was Kreacher. Kreacher belonged to Harry as a result of Sirius' will. By naming Harry as his heir, Sirius had all but declared Harry as his son. For over a year, Kreacher begrudgingly obeyed Harry because he had to. But treating Kreacher with a modicum of decency had changed his attitude regarding Harry. Kreacher was gone now, too. He had died six months after Harry had married Ginny.

There were the Hogwarts elves, but they didn't serve a family. 'Maybe that's the key,' Hermione mused aloud. But the elves at school weren't fond of questions. Especially from her.

Hermione looked at her watch, gasping. It was after two. She was going to be late.

*****

Ron sighed and picked up a magazine, raising an eyebrow at the date. It had been published about the same time as his wedding almost two years ago. Ron shrugged and paged through the magazine. Did babies really need all this rubbish? Both of Ron's eyebrows rose as he scanned an advert for a shop called Babyland Magic. The baby's room in the picture was layer upon layer of lace and ruffles, festooned with teddy bears, toys, and books. The cot was canopied, almost like his bed at school. An intricately carved rocking chair swayed gently near a window. A smaller version of the chair sat in a corner, a stuffed bunny occupying its seat. The walls were painted with a fanciful wood, idealized magical creatures cavorting amongst the trees. A plush rug in the middle of a highly polished wooden floor completed the room.

Ron refrained from openly sneering at the advert. What does a baby need with all this? Nobody else in the family had a room like this for their baby. Irritated, Ron flipped a page. It was another advert. This time for clothes. Miniature replica Quidditch uniforms, to be precise. Ron had been around enough babies to know that if they didn't grow out of it in a few weeks; they would spit up all over it first. Ron snorted. Page after page of prams, pushchairs, high chairs, toys. Articles on how to be a 'good' parent. It was almost as if the magazine screamed, 'If you don't do your baby's room like this, and feed her this kind of food, and dress her in this kind of outfit, and follow our advice, you must not love your child!' It was all rather accusatory.

The clatter of shoes on the tiled floor made Ron look up. Hermione came running into the lobby. 'What time is it?' she panted.

Ron looked at his watch. 'Ten minutes after two.'

Hermione fell into a chair next to Ron. 'How long have you been here?'

'Ten minutes or so, I guess.'

Hermione pulled the magazine out of Ron's hands. 'What on earth are you reading?' Her eyebrows rose in astonishment. 'Wizard Parent?'

'I was bored,' Ron muttered defensively.

'Hermione Granger-Weasley?' the welcome witch called into the lobby.

'Oh! Here!' Hermione jumped up, flustered. She beckoned to Ron and they followed the witch to an exam room in the back.

*****

Hermione sat on the end of an exam table, swinging her feet, trying very hard not to laugh at Ron, who was studiously avoiding looking at the posters on the wall depicting a baby at various stages of development. He seemed very interested in the toes of his shoes. Shanti walked in, Hermione's file in her hands. 'Hello, Hermione. Ready for today?'

'Oh, yes,' Hermione said happily.

Shanti leaned against the counter, looking through Hermione's file. 'Weight looks good. Blood pressure's fine. How are you feeling? Appetite all right? Still feeling any nausea?'

'I'm fine. Still get tired easily and some nausea if I don't eat regularly. Appetite's fine.'

'Fine?' blurted Ron. 'What do you bloody mean "fine"?' he asked incredulously.

'I'm not exactly vomiting at odd times anymore,' Hermione said tartly.

'You should have after what you ate Monday night!' he retorted. Turning to Shanti, he added, 'She ate curry mixed with jelly and onions!'

'Finished off the jelly and onions after you went to bed,' Hermione informed Ron. 'It was good.'

'It's normal,' Shanti tried to assure Ron.

'That's normal?' choked Ron.

'It's quite normal for pregnant women to eat things that are a bit unusual.'

'Unusual?' snorted Ron. 'Try outright barmy!'

'Why don't you read one of the books, Ron?' huffed Hermione.

'Why? You'll just tell me all about it later anyway.'

'It wouldn't hurt for you to just take a look, Ronald.'

'All right, then.' Shanti laid Hermione's file on the counter and drew her wand. 'Lie back and lift your shirt a bit, Hermione.' Shanti rested the tip of her wand on Hermione's exposed abdomen, murmuring, 'Sonorus Parvulus Viscus.'

Silence. Frowning, Shanti moved the tip of her wand slowly across Hermione's stomach. 'Come on, little one, don't be shy,' she said coaxingly. She smiled encouragingly at Hermione. 'They hide sometimes. Don't worry.'

Ron looked up at Hermione's face. It was creased with anxiety. He took her hand in his. 'What are we listening for?'

Suddenly, a steady whooshing beat filled the room. 'That,' Shanti said in satisfaction. 'One hundred and forty beats per minute. Lovely.'

'What is that?' Ron asked perplexed.

'The baby's heartbeat,' Hermione sniffed.

'Oh.' Ron blinked. The room began to spin and he clutched the side of the table, willing his knees not to buckle. 'Blimey. There really is a baby...'

'What did you think it was? A kitten?' Hermione sounded amused.

Ron flushed with embarrassment. He hadn't realized he said anything out loud. 'No. It's just real.' Ron felt a sliver of fear send a chill down his spine and settle in the pit of his stomach. If he hadn't understood what Harry had meant about not really being scared until he realized it was all real that Sunday afternoon two months ago, it dawned on him now, hearing his baby's galloping heartbeat through the rush of blood in his ears. 'I'm a father...'

Ron blinked again. He noticed Shanti and Hermione eyeing him speculatively. 'I'm not going to faint!' he snapped.

'Oh, is that the bet?' Shanti asked Hermione, who nodded.

'How do you know there's a bet,' demanded Ron.

Shanti snorted. 'I've helped deliver most of your nieces and nephews. There's always a bet or a pool going on.' She smoothed Hermione's shirt back down. 'Get plenty of rest, don't forget to exercise - a brisk walk is fine - don't go overboard with the food, stay hydrated, and don't forget to take the prenatal potion we gave you.'

'Why do they always taste like manky laundry?' Hermione asked, unconsciously echoing Ron's sentiments.

'Tradition,' Shanti replied promptly. 'Medicinal potions always taste nasty.' She scribbled a few notes in Hermione's file. 'If either of you have any questions, don't hesitate to stop by. And Ron, it wouldn't hurt for you to read one of her books for yourself.'

'Fine,' he grumbled.

'Hermoine, I'll see you again next month.' Shanti patted Hermione on the arm.

Ron felt Hermione's eyes on the back of his head as they walked outside. 'I'm not going to faint, hen.'

'I know. Besides, I put you down for fainting much later than this.'

'Really?' Strangely, Ron was touched by this. 'You have way more faith in me than I do. I put down the first time I feel it kick.'

'Well, either way, Bill and Charlie are out. They said you'd faint today.'

'So did Dad.' Something seemed to occur to Ron. 'Are we... Mad? Just a bit?'

Hermione grinned. 'Probably.' She stood on her tiptoes to kiss Ron. 'I wouldn't want it to be any other way.'

*****

As wrapped up as they were in each other and the moment, they didn't see the unkempt woman standing in the shadows beyond St. Mungo's. A filthy, broken quill peeped from the pocket of her coat, its original color a long past memory. 'It's not time yet,' she muttered.

She could wait. She had waited for years for this. A few more months to give the Mudblood time to make her pet project public was not going make a difference now. 'And a baby on the way to boot. How sweet,' she sneered. She filed that information away for reference. Anything and everything was ammunition now.